


The Taste Of Ink

by PlatinumAndPercocet



Category: Mindless Self Indulgence, My Chemical Romance
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe, Artistic Liberties, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, M/M, Multi, Polyamory, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-06-22
Packaged: 2018-06-07 21:05:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6824134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PlatinumAndPercocet/pseuds/PlatinumAndPercocet
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"If my goddamn neighbors could play videogames at all fucking hours, and scream at imaginary men holding make believe guns, I sure as shit could yell at four o’clock in the fucking morning if I wanted to."</p><p>I'm not entirely sure what all is happening here, but it's a thing that happened and it's probably gonna get smutty. Yes it is short, it's just a start. Something to wet your palette, if you will.</p><p>I don't own them, I'm fairly certain that is obvious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Can You Even Hear Me

"Fuck!"  
The exclamation was bitter and far louder than it probably should have been at this hour but the amount of fucks I gave equaled less than zero. If my goddamn neighbors, as cute as they were, could play videogames at all fucking hours, and scream at imaginary men holding make believe guns, I sure as shit could yell at four o’clock in the fucking morning if I wanted to. Pushing up from my desk, I stripped out of my ink covered sleep shorts and headed down the stairs to the bathroom in nothing more than a t-shirt. I ignored my reflection and spit in the sink, the bright white porcelain spattered with black. It looked like something out of a d-grade sci-fi flick. Twisting the squeaky faucet, I cupped my hands under the stupidly hot water and sucked it into my mouth, swishing quickly before spitting again. Less black and more grey. That was a start. Another two rounds and the water was almost clear again although the reflection in the mirror proved that was not the whole story. My tongue was black as pitch and looked almost alien against bright white teeth and deep red lipstick that was freckled with ink. Trippy. As. Fuck. Flipping the light out, I padded barefoot and bare assed back into my office, snagging a pair of panties from the basket of laundry that had sat, clean but unfolded, in the hallway for over a week. Housekeeping wasn’t my thing, to say the least. Fortunately I had a goddamn great service that came over and took care of that shit twice a week, bottom to almost top. The only thing off limits to, well, everyone, was my office. I could hear the music as I approached the narrow stairs, the pounding drums and perfect fucking guitars soothing my soul in a way that only they could. My office was my baby, and I had spent more than I’d paid for my car to have the attic in my bungalow renovated and outfitted with everything that I would need to work. The wooden shelves that covered three of the four walls were covered with reclaimed pine shelves that contained more art supplies that I could have imagined at one point, all painstakingly organized by type and color. Because that shit was important. The fourth wall was floor to ceiling windows that looked out over my little patch of backyard and the ocean beyond. It was fucking perfect. Plopping down at my desk, I wrinkled my nose at the mess that was strewn across the white sketchbook and brushed the whole mess into the trash with a clatter. Time to start from scratch. Pulling open the drawer, I fished one of the two dozen or so black pens out and set the cap meticulously upright in the very corner of my desk before popping the end in my mouth and clasping it between my teeth. The taste of ink had gotten old real fucking quick but the bi-weekly reminders did little to curb my habit. It was something I had always done, as if I was trying to get a feel for the world around me by tasting it. The more common of the four senses just weren’t enough to take everything in. Sometimes it paid off and sometimes not so much but that didn’t stop me from doing it. Pushing my glasses back up on my nose, I turned the music up almost to the point of being too loud, if there was such a thing, and got back to work, singing under my breath as the canvas before me changed from flat white to alive with colors and lines as the hours wore on and the sun peeked over the horizon.


	2. The Awful Things I've Seen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A long few nights at work and very limited patience have Lindsey already on the edge. When her neighbors interrupt her planned evening of solitude, she takes matters into her own hands. As it were.

Fucking hell I was exhausted. You know what? No. I wasn’t exhausted, I was so far past it that it wasn’t even funny. I couldn’t remember EVER being this tired, not even when I was in school. Pulling a double major isn’t easy but when it is so vastly fucking different, well, that’s when you get fucked, and not nearly at all in the good way. I’d always wanted to go to art school, for as long as I could fucking remember. It was my passion growing up; my refuge and my solace from the fucking insanity that was my daily life. Yeah, looking back on it my high school experience was not nearly as bad as it could have been, but it was far from good. High school, as a general rule, was fiucking awful and anyone who said otherwise was either a liar or high as fuck. Maybe both. I was an absolute fat kid, shy as hell. Fashion didn’t interest me, I couldn’t give two fuicks about sports and I spent all my spare time, and there was a lot of it, in the art wing doing… who the fuck knew what. I knew, even then, that art was where my future was, in some way. Sadly, someone forgot to tell my parents this because there was no way they would pay for art school. Ever. They made way too much for me to qualify for student aid so I buckled the fuck down, put my nose to the grindstone, slept as little as humanly possible, drank way too much coffee, smoked far more than could ever begin to be healthy and managed to graduate with a BFA in visual arts and a BS in Nursing. The latter was so that I wouldn’t end up on the streets, as my father so eloquently put it. Well, actually, he screamed it as I was packing my shit on graduation day and getting the fuck out of their house. I hadn’t been back since, not even thought about it. That shit was something I didn’t need, not now, and not for a very long time. I’d managed on my own for almost five years now, with nobody but myself. No attachments except for co-workers and the occasional one night stand cause a girl’s got needs. Aside from that it was usually just me, my paints, my music and the ocean. Exactly how I liked it. 

But this weekend was not, however usual. It wasn’t even in the same goddamn hemisphere as usual. I worked at the hospital in town PRN because, well, bills needed to get paid. Usually a shift to three a week was more than enough to supplement my freelance work but every now and then, life reared it’s fucking ugly head. And life. Was. A.Bitch. I couldn’t tell you why people did stupid, cruel things to each other. I don’t know why anyone could possibly justify the actions that nearly ended someone’s life with something as simple as a whoops. I didn’t believe in god, not with the things that I saw. When almost an entire family is obliterated in a blink; confined to hospital beds with machines doing the jobs that their frail, broken bodies should, there is never an answer. I watched over these girls, all four of them, ages four to twenty four for the better part of 48 hours. I caught naps in the on call rooms, showered in the lockers and stole scrubs from the OR. They could fucking deal with it. When their parents finally showed up, grief stricken and jet-lagged from their flight from London to see what was left of their daughters, all of those hopes and dreams confined shattered and bruised in hospital beds, they broke. And I didn’t. It wasn’t until they made the decision to end life support that I allowed myself to feel anything. I broke down with them, tears spilling down my cheeks as the monitors slowed in frightening succession, until all that was left was a single, deafening beep. And the girl who caused it? The one who ended more than just the lives of the four girls who were slowly growing cold in the morgue? She had barely a scratch. Life fucking sucked. That was fucking it. 

I’d walked out the doors of the hospital in a daze, clutching a cup of coffee for the drive although I almost immediately forgot it as soon as I pulled up in front of my house. My small little piece of paradise was covered in grey clapboard shutters, bright white trim and had a swing on the end of the wrap around porch. I couldn’t hear the waves at the moment but the salt air stung my nose and the cold breeze sent a very much needed chill down my spine as it somehow managed to blow the memories of the last forty-eight hours out of my head. The sun was setting behind the dunes, painting the sky almost obscene shades of orange and violet as it sank below the horizon, the dark blackness of the night creeping in. It was goddamn gorgeous. It did absolutely nothing for the physical toll the time had taken, however. That could only be solved by a steak, a shower, a shot, some sleep and a good fuck. But I only had two of the five so I would make the fuck do. 

Half an hour and two shots of Jack later I smelled like honey and apples, the little bit of alcohol floating through my veins making me happily fuzzy. Nowhere near drunk of course, but just.. Fuzzy. In the best way. And old button down, soft and paint spattered, and panties took the place of my regular pajamas and I could hear the waves crashing through the open window as I slid between the cool sheets, letting out a content sigh as I nearly melted into the bed. I could already feel sleep inching in at the edges of my consciousness, and I could feel the small smile that pulled at my lips as I started to give in to the peace and quiet at last. And then the goddamn screaming started. It wasn’t violent, not at all, and as much as I fucking loved swearing, I did NOT want to hear that shit right now. My neighbor’s windows were open again and it sounded like an entire fucking fraternity was over there, shooting who the fuck knows what. Because of course. Groaning, I rolled over, clamping my pillow over my ears to block out the noise. No fucking way was I going to close my window, not tonight. No fucking way. The pillow worked for all of two point four seconds and then the goddamn laughter began. And didn’t. Fucking. Stop. Fuck it. 

Throwing back my blankets, I didn’t bother to stop for pants, or shoes actually, as I stormed through my house and out the front door. The gravel stung under my bare feet as I stalked across my driveway and through my neighbor’s gate, but instead of actually registering as pain, it only fueled my anger as I stomped up the steps and rapped on the door, far harder than I probably should have. The air was decidedly colder than I remembered and the wind caught the ends of my dark, messy hair, tossing the strands in front of my eyes. The longer I waited, the more pissed off I got and by the time the door finally opened, yellow light spilling onto the porch, I was pretty fucking livid, even for me. And I could be, quite frankly, a bitch at the best of times. This was NOT the best of times. 

“What the fuck? Do you assholes have ANY idea how fucking loud you are? I know it isn’t all that goddamn late but sweet fucking Jesus on a goddamn cracker. Some people have to work. Not everyone has the fucking luxury of spending their nights killing zombies or beating hookers or whatever the fuck it is that you are doing. Could you maybe fucking quiet the fuck down? Just for one goddamn night?” 

Well. If screaming like a goddamn lunatic at a total stranger wasn’t the way to get my point across, who the fuck knew what was. The guy in the doorway, much to his credit, looked absolutely un-phased, arching a brow at me and pushed up his tattered shirt sleeves, giving me just a glimpse of dark ink covering his forearms before turning to call over his shoulder deeper into the house, where I could still hear whatever ridiculous fucking game they were playing, along with the laughter that was starting to tap dance on my last goddamn nerve. 

“Yo, Mikey! There is a screaming, half naked woman on your porch.” 

It took a minute before I heard the muffled reply from parts unknown, this time in a voice I knew. 

“Have I slept with her? Cause if I have, I’m not here. And I’m also gay.” I couldn’t help but roll my eyes at the comment, not bothering to hide my scoff as Ink turned his attention back to me, leaning casually against the doorframe like this was something he did every goddamn day and giving me a once over before yelling back into the melee of zombie killing or what the fuck ever. 

“Pretty sure you haven’t slept with her, Dude. That would kind of rule out the gay thing. Although it would confirm some of my suspicions.” The words were lazy and I could almost hear the smile in his voice, and god fucking help me if it didn’t bring my temper down just a little bit. 

“I’ll be right there. Tell her I’ll be right there!” I heard a blast of gunfire and muffled curses in at least two different voices as my bare foot tapped against the worn paint on the porch. 

“He’ll be right there. Did you want to come in? It can’t be fucking comfortable out there.” There was a note of genuine concern in his voice, or at least there seemed to be, and I shook my head, the haze of anger starting to clear as I realized the ridiculousness of the situation. 

“No, I’m good. Listen I just-” I was cut off A-FUCKING-GAIN by a voice from the back, although this question nearly made me smile. 

“Dude, is she hot?” Well shit. I caught Ink’s gaze as he turned back around, raising a brow in an unspoken question. He was kind of short but ballsy as fuck, giving me another once over and a wink as he yelled back into the recesses of the house. 

“Yeah, she’s hot.” Well, the last of my anger fizzled out right fucking quick and I stood up a little straighter, momentarily distracted by my earlier list of things that would help me unwind. No. No, Lindsey. No. Do not even think about that. A heavily tattooed hand waved in front of my face and it took me a second, my mind immediately going straight to the gutter as my long neglected hormones did a goddamn dance, before I could focus enough to speak, let alone hear. Knuckles over there was stepping back and waving me inside and I followed, of my own fucking accord, mentally screaming at myself. I needed to be home, in bed asleep. Instead, I was half naked in a stranger's house having supremely filthy thoughts about someone who I had never met. They were, in my defense, absolutely justified, however. I don’t think a goddamn nun would hold them against me, not right now anyway. It had been a long week and getting off probably would have been a better choice than Jack. Too late to change that decision. Finally managing to make my goddamn brain work on something other than the most fucking basic of levels, I pushed my wind tangled hair out of my eyes and offered the man across from me a small smile.* 

“Thanks. I’m Lindsey, I live next door.” I gestured towards my house with my head, tugging the cuffs of my shirt down over my fingers and twisting them in the threadbare fabric as I fought a shiver. It was cold as dick outside. Then again, I wasn’t wearing pants. So there was that. 

“Pleasure, Lindsey. I’m Frank. I’m not one of the assholes who was killing zombies. But I was laughing, so I guess I’m a little at fault. Come on, I kind of want to see you yell at Mikey. Fifty bucks says he tries to hit on you.” Frank didn’t bother hiding his laugh or waiting on a reply before heading towards the back of the house and I didn’t bother to think for a goddamn second before I followed behind him. This was going to get fucking interesting. And quick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have some sembelence of an idea as to where this is going and no clue how long it will take to get there... It should at the very least be an interesting ride. This also hasn't been beta'd because I have the patience of a ten-year old amped up on pixie sticx and red bull so any and all mistakes are mine and mine alone.


	3. My Taste Is So Refined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anger fades and sometimes, if you're lucky, turns to amusement. Nicknames, bets and some pretty thoughts. I... don't know.

The bungalow was set up in very much the same way as mine but then again, with these beach houses there was only so many variations on a theme that you could do. The decor though… well, lightyears. I was a bitch about certain things, and I fully fucking admitted that. I was particular about my scrubs, my art, my alcohol, my music and my ink. Just about everything else could be made of playdough for all the fucks I gave. I couldn’t help taking in the scene around me as I tagged along behind Frank towards what sounded like apocalypse headquarters. The decor was eclectic, to say the least, although the general theme seemed to be something along the lines of stereotypical bachelor meets neat freak with a splash of… well, actually really fucking fantastic paintings scattered throughout. I actually stopped dead in my tracks in front of one of them, caught up in the depth of the colors that seemed to almost jump off the canvas. It was fucking gorgeous and I wanted to touch it. A whistle from Frank pulled me from my little reverie, and I made a not to ask about the artist at some point when I was actually appropriate for public. Which was absolutely not now. 

“It’s fiucking amazing, huh?” Hazel eyes darted towards the canvas I had just stopped in front and well inked fingers flipped a strand of dark hair easily back behind his ears and fuck me it looked soft and I kind of wanted to pull it. I mean, what? No, that’s what I meant. I was blaming exhaustion and Jack. And also this current fucking dry spell for that one. Material for Jilling, no doubt and it would be glorious. 

“It’s beyond amazing, actually. It’s kind of obscene, to be honest. I love it.” I was telling the truth. There was very little I was ever not brutally blunt about, especially outside of work, but art, good art, made me forget the vast majority of social niceties and I usually just fucking babbled and swore a lot. But it was all honest, as it should be. 

“I’ll make sure to tell Gee.” There was some kind of a sly fucking smirk on that ridiculously pretty face and before I could ask another question, Frank had ducked into the doorway of the back room, waving me along. I felt like I had walked onto a goddamn movie set, it was so stereotypical, but in a bizarre way it was perfect. Four guys, all decked out in requisite jeans and some quality band t-shirts were sprawled across two couches and a recliner, a low coffee table laden with pizza boxes, snack food and beer bottles, controllers in their hands and music blasting amid the explosions that rocked the impressive fucking television. Even over the din, I could hear the waves crashing against the shore because of the windows that had been thrown open, the salty cool air billowing out the curtains. Frank, as he dropped down into a recliner, gestured to me and then the other occupants of the room as he spoke, almost matter of factly.

“ Mikey Way, Gerard, Ray, Bob, this is Lindsey. Lindsey lives next door and apparently your little armageddon mission is keeping her up. “ There was a lightness to the words that almost had me laughing and I insouciantly flipped him off without a glance as my eyes bounced over the other four. And addressed them all in kind, 

“Blondie, Bedhead, Hair and Tiny. I know you have names, I don’t remember them because my brain is fucking fried. I promise I will make it up to you. Here’s how it goes. I’m gonna refrain from yelling again cause I don’t have the energy. I’m fucking tired, okay? I’ve had three days where I worked more than I slept and I’m finally home. I lay down, in my glorious bed which is right the fuck across that fence,” Emphasizing my point, I throw my arm towards the open window as I blew an errant lock of hair from my eyes. “I was all nice and almost asleep when all of a sudden world war z broke out. I get it, I do, but if you could just do me a solid this once and maybe close the window so I don’t have to get violent? Pretty please?” I couldn’t quite tell if the stares I was receiving were from my diatribe or my attire, although from the earlier yelling back and forth at the door, I was willing to bet it was a little of both. 

“Sorry about that, Lindsey, I think sometimes we can get a little carried away.” The guy with an impressive as hell head of hair spoke up, Ray, if I remembered correctly, and I gave a small smile. 

“Seriously, no blood, no foul. I’m just fucking beat. I’m sure Ink can reenact my meltdown if you ask nice enough.* Glancing back over my shoulder at Frank, sprawled in his chair, I received a middle finger salute of my very own and I had to fight the urge to say something more than a bit inappropriate. I chalked it up to sleep deprivation, but it was flat out honesty and I filed that thought away for a rainy day.

“As long as he keeps his pants on. You are the exception to a long standing rule.” The blonde who I vaguely recognized, Mikey, seemed to have made this speech more than once before and the guy beside him, dark hair sticking out in every goddamn direction like he had been running his hands through it, turned bright fucking red and narrowed his eyes. 

“That was one fucking time, you asshole! Besides, I used to fucking bathe you, you can deal with seeing my ass every now and then.” Between the half hidden laughter, not exactly delicate ribbing and huge goddamn grins that were happening, I was definitely missing something and my nosy ass really wanted to know what. But did I want to know more than I wanted to sleep? That remained to be seen. Probably not though, at this moment in time a handful of orgasams were the only things I wanted more than sleep, and even that was a means to an end. My expression must have spoken for itself because the big blond guy who was somehow squeezed into the corner of the couch took pity on me, gesturing towards Frank.

“That little Italian asshole over there has a jones for fucking in places he shouldn’t. Long story short, we have all seen far more of him than we have ever wanted to. Ever. And pants are now required at all times unless doors are closed. And also, no fucking in the kitchen.” The words were so matter of fact that I couldn’t help but laugh, throwing my head back, the sound bubbling up from deep inside, for the first time in what felt like days. I was almost crying by the time I finally caught my breath, swiping at my cheeks as I peered over at an obviously delighted Frank who just shrugged. 

“Now that isn’t the entire story, Bryar, and you fucking know it.” A pillow flew across the room, easily deflected by Bob’s hand to parts unknown, and I heard Mikey groan as he dropped his head into his arms. Ray looked amused and Bedhead looked… nauseated. Well now my goddamn curiosity was piqued, sleep be damned. Not standing on pretense, I pushed aside a pizza box and plopped down, the opposite of gracefully, on the coffee table, one brow raised. 

“So what is the entire story? I’m already here, you might as well make it worth my while.” I was serious as fuck, despite how fucking sleepy I was, and let my gaze wander from man to man until Frank finally spoke up from his chair.

“Long story short? I was having sex in the kitchen when these assholes walked in like they owned the place.”

“I DO own the place!” Mikey sounded exasperated and threw his hands up in the air as he spoke, his discomfort obvious and, quite frankly kind of amusing. Although perhaps that was because I had pulled the same shit more than once in my time. 

“Well, true. But I told you I was going to be busy!” Frank seemed absolutely delighted in Mikey’s misery and Bob and Ray just watched on in unabashed amusement. Bedhead, on the other head, just rolled his eyes, his face still bright red.

“You didn’t say you were going to be busy with my goddamn brother!” This was obviously a conversation that had been had, and enjoyed, many times before. Bob and Ray finally burst out laughing, Frank who had nudged me over on the coffee table grinned almost proudly and leaned against my shoulder while Mikey muttered something just barely under his breath. Bedhead -Gerard- just shook his head, although I could see a hint of a smile on his ridiculously pretty lips as he shot a look at Frank. Oh. OH! Well then. That changed things a whole lot. Oddly enough, though, it didn’t really change anything at all except for sending that happy little scenario slamming into my alone time folder. My smile was bright and genuine as my gaze flitted between Frank and Gerard, squirming just a bit in place as my mind went straight down into the gutter. 

“Well damn. I’ll remember that for next time. Pants are mandatory and no fucking in the kitchen. Any other rules I should know about?” The question was directed to nobody in particular, but Mikey answered it with a grin, which seemed kind of normal seeing as it was his house and all.

“Well, in the interest of being neighborly and considering your current attire, I would say that the rules don’t apply to you. I wouldn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, after all.” Frank burst out into laughter beside me, shaking his head and holding out his hand.

“Fifty bucks. I told you he would try and hit on you!” This time it was Mikey who threw a pillow, although Frank dodged it easily a laugh and blew a kiss at Mikey. Or maybe Gerard, I wasn’t quite sure. Poorly attempting to hide my yawn, I pushed myself up from my perch and patted my hands over my hips.

“I must have left my money in my other shirt. But you’ll get it, I promise.* Frank looked absurdly pleased with himself, and with good reason. If I had just made fifty bucks, I would be gloating too. “As much fun as I’m having, and I was not expecting to so thank you for that, I really should head home before I fall asleep on your table.” Wriggling my fingers, I turn on my bare feet and head towards the front door, grinning at the chorus of ‘goodbyes’ that filtered behind me, fading to snippets of insults and good-natured ribbing that got quieter as I got closer to my house. 

I’d been so worked up when I left that I hadn’t bothered to even shut the main door, allowing the now cold air to seep through the screens and cool my overheated skin. My mind was going a thousand miles and hour, in places that it absolutely should not have been as I slipped in between my cool sheets, tugging the blankets up under my chin as the voices drifted through my window from the house next door. I was already awake, what harm could crossing another item or two off my list do? None at all. I let my thoughts drift along with my fingers and let flashes of inked knuckles and hazel eyes helping maybe a bit more than they should have. On the plus side, I slept like a fucking baby. Finally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a trainwreck, it will make sense eventually. Maybe. I hope. I have all the ideas. We will have to see what happens. Unbeta'd because, well, I don;t have any patience. I hope you enjoy.


	4. Let You Know How Much You Mean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An interrupted nap, coffee, art and a storm. Oh and a lack of pants.

Whoever the asshole at my door was REALLY needed to fuck off. Like hard. I mean, granted it was maybe four o’clock in the afternoon, but i had gotten off of work at eleven AM after a sixteen hour shift. I needed my goddamn sleep, mostly so I didn’t kill a bitch. Maybe if I ignored it, they would go away. Then again, that hadn’t worked since it started five minutes ago. The knocking was steady, almost rhythmic and if I wasn’t laying down I would be tapping my foot. ONce the doorbell rang, I was done for and I threw my blankets back, nearly stomping to the door, my faded t-shirt and panties doing very little to leave anything to the imagination. If this was some goddamn salesman or religious nut, he was about to see a whole lot more than Jesus, let me fucking tell you. Yanking the door open, I was just about to let loose a string of choice expletives when I realized who,l exactly, was standing on the other side. Granted the tie took me off guard, as did the sweater vest, but the shaggy hair and tattooed to fuck hands that had starred in more than one round of alone time were kind of a dead give away. I didn’t hesitate before snagging the cup of coffee that was clasped in his hand, ‘Romantic’ spelled out in stark black against olive skin. Not speaking, I took a long sip of the piping hot beverage and moaned a little too loudly, earning me a grin, complete with a raised brow behind dark Ray-bans. 

“Shut the fuck up, it was a long night.” My voice was still husky with sleep and it wasn’t until I saw a mother hustle her toddler across the street like I was summoning Satan on my front porch that I remembered I wasn’t exactly appropriate for well, anything. Stepping back, cream and green cup clutched tightly to my chest, I toed the door open and stepped back into my small entry way, waving a hand in the air. “You coming in or am I going to have to put on pants?” I squinted against the sun that was rapidly being hidden behind storm clouds and wrinkled my nose. That shit needed to be gone, we were more than due for some storms and I wanted them. A fucking lot. 

“Well, I wouldn’t want to inconvenience you…” The words were tossed off all casual as fuck and I closed the door behind Frank as he sauntered in, dropping his bag and sunglasses on the paint covered chair in front of the bay window before falling into the overstuffed recliner in my living room. 

“Please, make yourself comfortable.” I feigned seriousness, but I couldn’t hide my smile as I plopped down on my couch and sipped the manna from fucking heaven that Frank had delivered. I had been over to MikeyWay’s several times in the last few weeks, although despite the rules set forth on my first visit, I always wore pants. They were a good group, really good, and I liked them all, once I got over their late night video exploits. Hell, I even joined them in screaming at the television a time or two even though I knew dick all about what was going on. I’d made brownies, even. That shit was serious. This was the first time any of them had managed to make their way past my door however, and it was quite a pleasant surprise. Raising my coffee cup at Frank, I gave a smile as I watched him glance around my living room. My walls were painted a weathered white and I had canvases and framed prints strewn across them. Some were mine and some weren’t but they all meant something to me, in some way. Every piece spoke of a moment in time; there was something about each one that spoke to me. Some of them thrilled me, some broke me but every goddamn one meant something. The silence as he studied them was comfortable, and I could hear the wind pushing against the windows outside, the wild clanging of the hideous fucking windchime on the back porch combining with the music that drifted from my bedroom to create a bizarre melody that was kind of fucking perfect. “So, to what do I owe this visit? Cause it’s a weird damn time for you to stop by and simply ogle my art and my ass, although I won’t ever complain about either. And why are you dressed like a junior high english teacher?” The questions were in rapid fire succession, although I blamed that on sleep deprivation. I wasn’t too tired to mean every word though, and I was curious as to what brought him out, with my favorite fuel in tow.

“It’s never a weird time for me to ogle your ass, Legs, and I figured today was as good a day as ever to see some of the art you and Gee are always going on about. Fucking nerds.” The last words were delivered with a teasing and almost obscene smile and, had I not been holding coffee, I would have thrown one of the many pillows behind my head at him. “And I’m dressed like an middle school english teacher because I AM a middle school english teacher. You know this, Linds, we have talked about it repeatedly.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong. We had talked about it repeatedly, but it was kind of like my not really being a nurse until they saw me in scrubs. The uniform makes the man, as it were. And this uniform fucking suited him, just as much as faded band shirts and ripped jeans did. He was too fucking pretty for his own good and I was not so quietly jealous of him and Gee both because jesus fucking christ, they made a pretty picture. One that I really shouldn’t have been thinking about pantsless with Frank in my living room and a storm brewing outside. Shaking away that particular train of thought, I flipped Frank off insouciantly and drained the almost half of my coffee before jumping back up. “Come on, Professor, I’ll give you the nickel tour if you want it. There’s more art on the third floor. You can see how I compare to Gee.” The words were a deliberately laced double entendre although that was nothing out of the ordinary for either of us. Any of us, to be frank. Except Ray. Ray was all that was pure and good in this world, better than us all by far. Well, and Gee. Gee was a tough nut to crack which only served to make him even more desirable. He could, and often did, go from trading barbs with Frank, MikeyWay and Me to blushing furiously and doing everything in his considerable power to disappear. It was adorable and made me want to do all kinds of fun and filthy things to see just how red he could get. No. Focus Lindsey. Shaking my head as if to physically dispel that train of thought, my hair fell in my eyes and I brushed it back as I wandered towards the stairs, Frank right behind me. I may have swayed my hips a little more than necessary because why the fuck not? Pointing at both the hallway to the kitchen and bathroom, I started up towards the second floor as a loud rumble of thunder echoed overhead. “Kitchen, Bathroom, pretty sure those are both self explanatory.” A gruff laugh that maybe sent a little bit of a shiver down my spine was the only response as I stopped at the top of the stairs, pointing to the closed doors on either side of the short hallway. “My room, and the guest room. I guarantee the beds are better than at MikeyWay’s if you get tired of the sandpaper sheets before your remodel is done.” I could even hear the smile in my voice and I grinned as I met Frank’s gaze. 

“Don’t say that if you don’t mean it, Legs, cause I love MikeyWay but his taste in bedding is awful. I have delicate skin.’’ I couldn’t help my laugh at that, clear and genuine. That little asshole.   
“Of course I mean it, but I can guarantee your tiny ass is the opposite of sensitive. Nobody with that much ink can be that sensitive.” I gave his shoulder a brush with mine as I skirted past him towards the stairs to the third floor, the brightly colored ink that cascaded down my own arm standing out in stark contrast to the white of his button down. “Now stop jizzing over my sheets, you haven’t seen the best part.” Tossing a grin over my shoulder, I dashed up the stairs, leaning against my desk at the top as I waited for him. I rarely had people in my home, there were very few that I actually gave more than a passing fuck about, but this was my favorite part for those that did. I always made sure I stood where I could see their face. My studio was, to anyone else, a mess. Bits and pieces of projects were scattered across every available surface; scraps of paper here, paint brushes and pallets there. Inspirations pulled from books and magazines mixed with photos of people and things I loved were tacked to the walls. There were ink stains on almost every surface; the colors splattered against the weathered hardwood like a project all their own. Shelves on three walls were lined with supplies; acrylics, brushes, pens, inks and all of the other tools of my trade were interspersed with dozens of books on every style of art I could think of, even if I didn’t create it myself. I fucking loved to learn about it. Hell if I could live solely on nicotine, coffee and knowledge, I fucking would. I had seen Frank’s face when Gee had spoken of his art, and he was absolutely enraptured. Then again, Gee kind of had that effect on people, even ones he hadn’t fucked on his brother's counter. It was just who he was. I cast a sideways glance out the floor to ceiling windows that made up the fourth wall and smiled almost reflexively at the clouds that hung over the ocean. They were heavy, an angry green-grey that promised storms even more so than the thunder that rolled overhead. 

“Holy shit.” The exclamation was quiet and pulled my attention, rightfully so. I couldn’t help my grin as I watched Frank look around, his eyes wide. I didn’t move for a moment, just watching as he moved around, inked fingers moving over things as though he could learn about them by touching. Well, at least he wasn’t putting them in his mouth. Most of them didn’t taste very good. I knew from experience. He stopped cold in front of the easel that was set up to the side of the glass wall, staring at it in earnest. I wasn’t a painter but I liked to play at it. There was something soothing about mixing colors and watching them come to life on a canvas, searching for hidden images in the depths, that made me happy. Nodding my head in time to the music that spilled from the speakers, I made my way to his side, and stood in silence for a moment before opening my mouth, although I got cut off before I could form any actual words. 

“It’s a fucking mess and I kind of love it.” The statement was blunt but appreciative, and my grin was an automatic response. My art was seldom pretty, and in my opinion the best art never was. It was divisive and full of feelings; it made you wince or moan. There was no in between and yet it was nothing but. That was why I loved it so much. “Gee does something similar… the colors. I can’t fucking understand it, but I like it. A lot.” 

Well shit, I couldn’t have been more pleased if he had compared me to goddamn VanGogh. Beaming, I looked away for just a moment as the sky opened up with a roar of thunder, raindrops immediately pelting against the glass windows in sheets. I fucking loved that sound. Ruffling my hand through Frank’s already disheveled hair, I snag his hand, tugging him easily towards the stairs. “I’ll take that as the highest of compliments cause hot fucking damn. I’ve got some more downstairs, actually finished and everything. Plus beer and a swing on the back porch. Best goddamn place to watch the storm and if this keeps up it’s gonna be a fuck of a sh-” My words were cut off my an electric sizzle in the air and an almost deafening crash as lightning struck, from the sounds of it very nearby. I stopped short as the room plunged into darkness, too quickly for Frank, apparently, and he crashed into me, his hands tightening on my hips as he pressed solidly against my back. He was oddly cold which made no fucking sense at all to me, but the brush of lips against the back of my neck, kind of made sense vanish into the goddamn ether. Then again maybe it was the stifled groan that did it. Either way, I was fucking good with that shit. I didn’t bother to resist the grip that easily spun me around, because I wasn’t fucking stupid and goddamn had it been a long time, meeting those goddamn gorgeous eyes for little more than a blink before one of those hands that I openly admired slid from my hip to my neck, pulling not exactly gently and crashing his lips to mine in a desperate kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This happened. And a whole lot quicker than I had anticipated. I'm still not exactly sure what this whole thing is, but I have all kinds of ideas down the line. So there is that. I hope you all are enjoying this little journey, it's a first for me into this bandom sooo, that's a thing. The title, cause I'm a fool, is from The Taste Of Ink by The Used. Yeah, I know. Chapter two is from Sleep, Chapter three is from Stage 4 Fear of Trying by FIATC and this one is from Demolition Lovers. I'll try and rmember that shit from here on out. Thank you all for reading and I would love to know what you think if you are so inclined. This still isn't beta'd so all mistakes are my own.


	5. Tonight's Our Night Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Smart mouths and pretty smiles

The kiss was fucking electric and desperate, my hands fisting almost immediately in the collar of Frank’s shirt as I whimpered against his lips, pulled flush against him by the hands that were still splayed over my hips. His fingers were strong and calloused and Jesus fuck I was a fan of them. He kissed just like he did anything else, messy and thorough with more than just an edge of desire. Frank didn’t pull back until we were both gasping for breath, ragged and needy. His mouth went straight to my neck and I could feel the wicked grin against my skin as he smoke against a particularly sensitive spot, an unabashed moan falling from my lips.

“You okay there, Legs?” The tease was evident in the muffled words and those goddamn hands were just playing with the lace that covered my hips, all casual as fuck, but not at the same time. My head lolled back, giving Frank better access to my neck and I mumbled an answer, the words barely audible to my own ears over the storm that raged outside. 

“Never been better, Ink.“ It was very true, although there was some small voice at the back of my head that whispered about slowing down but that voice piped the fuck down when teeth grazed over my skin, nipping at my earlobe just moments before a throaty laugh and quiet words were whispered against my ear.

“I’ve got a feeling better is subjective here. I guarantee that it can get better. Whaddya say, Linds?” 

Even with his breath hot against my ear and his hands still just teasing at the lace over my hips, Frank was still polite and that was endearing as fuck. It almost brought me back down to earth for the slightest of seconds and a single word slipped from my lips before I shoved that goddamn voice back in her box. “Gee?” 

I could feel the chuckle deep in Frank’s chest and the smile against my skin as my question was processed and fingertips just barely slipped under purple lace. “Gee and I are not exactly traditional. He knows I’m here, and if he wasn’t with a client... “ The words trailed off with a groan as I let my hand slide into that soft fucking hair, giving it the slightest tug back to meet his eyes, the usually bright hazel darkened to an almost intoxicating green as a wicked smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. My tongue darted out to run over suddenly dry lips as I weighed the scenario that, although I had quite literally dreamed about it on more than one occasion, had never actually considered to be a legitimate possibility. And then it was. It was very real. It took less than a moment for my decision to be made, a hushed moan escaping my lips before I gave Frank’s tie a gentle pull and pressed my lips to his again. 

This second kiss was no less heated than our first, even more so if possible, but there was an undercurrent of… something there. Desire. Lust. A promise… fucking something. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on it and frankly, at this exact moment, I didn’t give a fuck. The fingers on my hips worked their way under the useless lace of my panties, giving them a gentle pull and they slid down my legs, catching on my ankle. What the fuck ever, I wasn’t worried. Frank’s hands slid almost agonizingly slowly back up my legs, a dark chuckle ringing in my ears as I squirmed to get just a little bit more contact. As soon as he hit the hem of my shirt, his fingers closed around it and it was pulled over my head in a blink, his lips back at my ear as my tousled hair fell back down over my shoulders. My own hands, now hanging uselessly at my sides, wrapped in the soft knit hem of that fucking ridiculous sweater vest and gave a rather useless tug. 

“Patience, Legs.” The words were quiet, punctuated with a deep chuckle as Frank’s lips trailed down my neck, alternating teasing wet kisses and tiny nips that sent thrills through me. Light stubble rasped over my collarbone and down in my cleavage before his mouth closed over my already sensitive nipple and sucked hard. Fucking christ. My cry of pleasure was soft and I leaned back against the half wall by the stairs, my knees already weak. This fucking dry spell was gonna make me look goddamn ridiculous but at this point, I couldn’t give a fuck. Teeth not so gently pulled against sensitive skin as Frank pulled back with a devilish grin and I forced myself to look down at him, my smile automatic as he kissed his way down my belly, stopping only to trace his fingers across the ink that was scrawled there, one, two, three times. He studied it with an almost intense fascination and I could feel the anticipation building as he pressed a chaste kiss against it before settling back on his knees and looking up at me with an almost earnest expression. He must have learned that shit from Gee. It didn’t quite reach his eyes though; they gleamed in the dim light with mirth and mischief and he raised a single brow in an unspoken question, his hand resting on my thigh, fingertips just barely stroking against my overheated skin.

“I won’t beg.” My words were raspy with anticipation and need and my hands grasped at the wall behind me but not gaining purchase . It was a futile attempt and one that would be given up with little more than a smile and the brush of a tongue over the ink on my thigh. 

“I wouldn’t make you, Legs. Not right now anyway. One day though, because I bet that’s awful fucking pretty.” Frank’s words were laced with a laugh and the warmth of his breath over my thighs had me nearly panting as I shifted my weight from foot to foot, my toes pressing into the warm, weathered wood. “Eager, Linds?” 

I could hear the smile in his voice without looking down and I just nodded, catching my bottom lip between my teeth for a moment as I steadied my breath. “You could say that.” It wasn’t at all untrue, although eager may have been an understatement, and one that didn’t go unnoticed by the man on his knees in front of me. Calloused fingertips skimmed over the sensitive skin along the inside of my thigh and I parted my legs just enough, a silent invitation to accompany my spoken one. 

Laughing, Frank sat back on his heels and grinned up at me, all innocent and obscene at the same time, his hands resting on my thighs, thumbs teasing just beyond where I wanted them. The little asshole was driving me absolutely crazy. “I could say a whole lot of things, you know. My teachers always said I was a talkative little shit.” 

Whimpering in frustration, I slide a hand into Frank’s hair and tug, the gentle pull earning me a low moan. “I’ve heard you talk, time and again. Shut up and put that mouth to good use. Please.” The last word was a broken plea, cracking as I finally said it. A blinding grin was illuminated in the flash of blue-white lightening outside and my fingers tightened in dark hair as I watched, entranced for just a few moments before coherent thought escaped me and pleasure took over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This title is from Blood Infections by Frnk Iero and The Cellabration because, well, reasons. Still not beta'd because I have an instant gratification problem. And also the patience of patio furniture. It's been a while since I've written anything even remotely of this nature, so if it sucks I'm sorry. Comments? Questions? Song suggestiuons? Leave em for me, I'll reply, I promise. I love that kind of thing. Happy reading!


	6. I'd Really Love To Spend The Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wake ups, pancakes and uninvited guests... kind of.

The pounding of the rain against the windows very slowly pulled me from a deep sleep and I stretched languidly, humming in contentment as the last vestiges of a fucking gorgeous dream slipped away. The strong arm that was draped over my waist, however, was absolutely not a dream, neither was the rough chuckle that was muffled against the back of my head. Well fuck me.

“So I guess that wasn’t a dream, huh?” My voice was husky and thick with sleep as I finally opened my eyes, blinking at the slight burn of my contacts. There was nothing but darkness outside the window, but it was split with flashes of blue-white lightning that illuminated my bedroom for little more than an instant at a time. The ceiling fan overhead whirred softly and the oppressive heat and humidity hadn’t seemed to set in so the power must have come back sometime after we hat tumbled into bed. And tumble was the exact word, if the memories that were slowly coming back in bits and pieces were right. 

Frank tightened his grip on my waist, pulling me easily flush against him and hummed into my neck. “No, Legs, that was not a dream.” I could feel his lips against my skin and the sensation sent a shiver through me as I remembered the places they had been not too long before. 

 

Wiggling as I cracked my back, I could feel familiar fingers tighten slightly on my hip.”Keep it up, Linds, and see where that gets you. I can almost guarantee that MikeyWay and the boys are not exactly raring for a repeat performance.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I squirmed to face Frank, running a hand through his even more unruly hair. 

“Yeah, I’m not exactly shy about a whole lot, honestly. Besides, it’s a fucking typhoon out there, he should have his windows closed. Fucking pervs.” I spared a quick glance at the windows that faced bungalow next door, the golden light seeping through the half closed blinds. If I squinted just right I could see the silhouette of heads but I didn’t have enough energy to figure out who exactly they were. Twisting my legs with Frank’s, I pulled back just enough to be able to examine the dark ink that seemed to be covering every inch of exposed skin, my fingers trailing over the lines absently as I tried to take it all in.

“Shy wasn’t a word I would have applied to you from the get go, Legs. I mean you did scream at a stranger wearing next to nothing…” His words trailed off in a soft, happy sigh as I kept up my exploring. “You’re either gonna put me to sleep or get yourself in trouble if you keep that up. It feels way too fucking good.”

Peeking up from my study, a small smile tugged at my lips as I saw Frank’s eyes close as a grin formed on his lips. Jesus fuck this man was beautiful. Stretching, I brushed a kiss over the lopsided scorpion that graced his neck before wiggling out of his hold. That was obviously not what he had in mind, and I was greeted with an adorable as fuck pout as I slipped from the bed, laughing as I grabbed Frank’s discarded shirt and shrugged into it, only bothering with half the buttons as I headed into the bathroom. It only took me a moment to get cleaned up and I leaned against the doorframe for a moment just watching my companion like a goddamn creeper. The storm that raged outside was goddamn glorious but it didn’t even touch the man in my bed. He was still laying down, flat on his back, and his hands were laced behind his head, as he watched me with a mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “What?”

“I like you in that shirt is all. It suits you. Now come back here and cuddle?” It wasn’t as much a request as it was a statement, and i laughed as I ran my fingers through my sex mussed hair. 

“Not quite yet, I’m fucking starving. Pancakes?” There really wasn’t an option but I figured I would make it seem like there was. 

“Strawberries?” The reply was so hopeful that I couldn't bring myself to say no, even though I’d had plans for the pint of bright red berries that I had grabbed at the farmer’s market on the way home. 

And chocolate, if you’re really lucky. “Shooting him a wink, I tossed my head and padded barefoot towards the kitchen, flipping lights and fans on along the way. I was halfway through mixing the batter from scratch, because fuck bisquick, when Frank finally sauntered in, bare chested with jeans slung low on his hips and his hair an absolute mess. He looked like sex and that was an absolutely accurate description. 

“Can I do anything?” His voice was soft and he leaned against the island in the middle of the kitchen, still looking a little sleepy. 

“Not really, if you want to reset the clock, maybe get some music on? Make coffee? Pancakes aren’t very hard.” At the last suggestion, he perked up and fished his phone out of his pocket, getting a pot of coffee going before hooking his phone into the house wide speaker system. I didn’t recognize the song, but it was catchy as fuck and I hummed along under my breath as I spooned batter onto the griddle on my stove. Between chopping the berries and chocolate, flipping the pancakes and stirring the melted syrup and butter on one of the back burners, time sped by quickly and the stack of golden brown delights in the warm oven was almost complete, although far too much for two people. 

Frank snatched a slice of strawberry from the cutting board as he handed me a mug of coffee, already doctored with cream and sugar, his gaze darting from the waiting food to the window that looked out towards MikeyWay’s house in an unspoken question. I didn’t hide my laugh as I nodded, although my reply was cut off by a solid rapping on the door and a very familiar voice yelling from outside. 

“It’s fucking raining out here, come the fuck on Linds!” 

Rolling my eyes, I kissed Frank’s cheek as I passed, swatting his ass, my voice low as I whispered against his ear. “I promise you are gonna make that up to me.” The blinding smile I received in response more than made up for it , and his reply drifted behind me as I made my way to the front door. 

“Oh don’t worry, Legs, I will.” I had zero doubts about that, and I’m sure, if the expression on MikeyWay’s face when I opened the door was anything to go by, nobody else did either. 

“I don’t even want to know, just point me to the pancakes.” At least the boy was honest. Stepping back to let the troop of not exactly invited guests in, I gestured towards the kitchen before pushing the door forcibly shut against the wind as a chorus of curses rang out from behind me. It was gonna be a long night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is from "She's The Prettiest Girl At The Party And She Can prove It With A Solid Right Hook" By FrnkIero AndThe Cellabration because of course. I still don;t know what all is going on here, but if you enjoy it, leave some words in the little box below, I love hearing what people think. I know it is a hot mess express but, well, that is kind of my MO. Still un-betaed because that is also my MO. If anyone wants to take on that ridiculous challenge, let me know.


	7. Tongue Tied And Overloaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pancakes, kisses and dirty counters. Oh and MikeyWay gets morally outraged. It's a good time

Midnight pancakes, though usually not literally at midnight, became something of a tradition, either at my house or MikeyWay’s, but I usually lobbied for the former because I had a better kitchen. Not that Mikes was subpar or anything, I was just particular. Plus, the rules at Mikey’s didn’t apply to my house and I could, and regularly did, go pantsless and fuck in the kitchen, although always well before my guests arrived. For the most part. Tonight was no exception, and Frank’s mouth was pressed firmly against the side of my neck, his breath hot and heavy as he muttered filthy, beautiful words against my skin as my cries died down, the echoes fading slowly, my hands grasping the granite top of the island as I struggled to come back down from the fucking insane high. My vision was still hazy, right along with my mind and words were broken by soft pants as I tried to catch my breath as I turned my head to brush my lips against his temple while I let my shaking legs drop from around his hips.

“Fucking Hell, Frankie. Explain to me again why this isn’t a daily occurrence?” I could feel his smile, the low chuckle in his chest as he shook his head, pressing a last kiss against the fluttering pulse point of my throat and straightened up to look at me, tucking an errant strand of hair behind my ear, his calloused fingers lingering against my cheek for just a moment.

“Because if it was, Legs, we wouldn’t get anything else accomplished. Ever. And you know, we have jobs, friends… all of that shit that life demands.” His words were quiet but a knowing smirk played at his lips before brushing another tender kiss against my cheek. “Now, what do you say we get cleaned up before the guys get here, hmmm? Cause as much as I think they would like to see you like this, I know they don’t want to see me.” Humor laced Frank’s words as he pulled away, making short work of cleaning up before helping me hop down from the island, pain racing through the balls of my feet as I stumbled and grabbed his arms with a curse.

“Fucking fuck. I’m not as young as I used to be.” Leaning against his side, Frank wrapped an arm around my waist as we started to make our way towards the stairs. The sun was sinking low over the ocean, sending the last rays of orange and pink through the windows as the deep purples and black of night started to take over. It was my absolute favorite time of the day and I couldn’t help but stop at the bay window and gaze out almost wistfully as the sun slipped lower, humming softly as I leaned my head against Frank’s just as it sank completely below the horizon. The silence was not only companionable but safe, broken only by the quiet guitars and crash of waves through the open windows. A soft sigh slipped from my lips, one of the few concessions I offered to the ridiculous girliness that was threatening to bubble over in my belly, and I chalked it up to pure afterglow. Cause Frank was exceedingly fucking good, but he was my friend, albeit one with considerable benefits, and I wasn’t willing to fuck that shit up. Twisting my fingers in his, I gave a gentle tug, pulling him towards the stairs. “Come on, if we’re lucky we can get done in time to fuck with MikeyWay for a few minutes before everybody else arrives.” The grin that brightened Frank’s face was absolutely fucking sinful and my knees got maybe a little bit weak as I raced up the stairs, pulling Frank behind me. 

Half an hour and a rather handsy shower later, Frank and I were back in the kitchen and I was mixing pancake batter while he pulled fruit from the fridge and tried to distract me while music blasted from the speakers. Well, that’s a lie, he did distract me, twisting the ends of my hair absently in between his ink-covered fingers, giving a gentle pull and nearly sending the bowl crashing to the floor. “Goddamnit, Frank! You’re gonna ruin dinner if you keep that up.” As much as I tried for angry, I couldn’t help my smile, shaking my head as I pushed the bowl away from the counter’s edge and hooked a finger into Frank’s belt loop, tugging him tight against me. I may have been taller than him, but that inch was easy enough to deal with, especially if I was barefoot which I tended to be as much as possible, and I leaned down just enough to brush my lips across his ear with a grin.

“If you keep that up, you’re gonna get yourself in trouble and then MikeyWay and Ray are gonna refuse to come over anymore.” 

Another tug on my hair and a fucking devilish grin later and Frank’s lips were back at my neck, his teeth teasing along my already sensitive skin. I could feel the sharp intake of breath but before he could actually get any words out, a very familiar voice rang out from the door of the kitchen.

“For some reason, I don’t think that is going to actually discourage him, Linds.” Gerard’s voice was laced with mirth and a grin played on his pretty lips as he dropped a container on the counter beside the pancake batter before brushing a kiss across my cheek. It was our customary greeting, and I gave his already disheveled hair a ruffle, receiving a blinding smile in return. 

“I’m not sure I actually want it to, Gee, if I’m being totally honest.” I never lied to anyone but myself and those words were the absolute truth. Turning away for a moment, I peeked into the glass owl Gee had dropped off and nearly squealed at the sight of the fresh sliced berries inside. “Gee, you’re a goddam-Oh!” My response was involuntary as I turned around just in time to catch sight of Frank grasping a handful of Gerard’s hair and kissing him absolutely fucking senseless. Well… fuck. I stared far longer than I should have, although there was absolutely no shame in my perving game, especially in this case. In the two months Frank and I had been fucking around, Gerard had come up more than once, usually while we were still tangled up in each other, skin still slick with sweat, and the conversation had been the same each and every time. Jesus fuck. I had to physically shake my head to dismiss the thoughts that circled my mind, each one a bit dirtier than the last, and all brought on by the men in front of me. When they finally pulled apart, sinful smiles on both of their faces, I got a wink from Frank, and a slightly sheepish blush from Gee as he smoothed out his hopeless hair. “Can that happen again, please? Right the fuck now?” 

“No, it can not!” MikeyWay’s voice carried in from the hallway just moments before the man himself walked through the door, a rasher of bacon in his hand, Ray and Bob trailing behind with champagne, and orange juice respectively.

Chucking a berry at Mikey’s head, I did a little victory dance as it pinged off his blonde hair, streaking it just barely with red. “Your rules don’t apply in my kitchen, Mikes.” The words were matter of fact and I could hear both Ray and Bob laughing as they busied themselves with retrieving glasses for alcohol as Mikey wiped angrily at his hair. His glare was far from serious and I bounced on my tiptoes, blowing him a kiss as I headed towards the stove, batter bowl in hand as I flipped the burner on beneath the pancake pan. “Now, I highly recommend you get that bacon into the over if you want to eat.” Apparently threatening to deprive the skinniest person in the room of food was all that was needed in order to get everyone’s asses in gear and we all settled into an easy rhythm that had formed itself over the last few weeks of late night dinners. The music was loud, the company was good and the alcohol, thanks to Bob, flowed quite freely and I allowed myself to simply bask in the simple pleasures that abounded while I could. The tiny, nagging voice at the back of my mind, the same one that I ignored so often, was piping up again, whispering worries and doubts. For tonight though, she was shoved back inside her box. She could be dealt with later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this happened. The title is from About A Girl by The Academy Is... And William Beckett is fucking precious. Anyway! Once again, this has been brought to you without the aid of a beta because I have the patience of a blueberry muffin. I have a vague idea of where this is going and it will, eventually, get a little bit heavier. But for now, let's enjoy the pancakes and fucking in the kitchen, shall we? If you enjoy my random ridiculousness,which I really hope you do, drop me a comment, they make me squeak. Happy reading, y'all!

**Author's Note:**

> I have no idea what in the hell is happeneing here... there will be more, obviously, but I can't say when and it probably won't be in anything resembling a timely fashion but... we'll see what happens.


End file.
